


The Hangman

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), War Horse (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Babies, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, Rings, Sibling Incest, Spoilers, Stuffed Toys, Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas was doing what he did best, closing his eyes and pretending nothing was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hangman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The memory that Thomas mentions is taken directly from the movie novelization though I added a few implications to it.
> 
> This plot bunny inspired by the line: "They would take you from me, they would hang you." - Lucille to Thomas.

His heartbeat pounding wildly, Thomas was doing what he did best, closing his eyes and pretending the bad things were not happening. Pretending that there was not in fact a crowd baying for his death. Unconsciously, he braced himself when the hangman said, "Have you any last words, Sir Thomas Sharpe, before you are to be hanged by the neck until death ?"

The ancient oak hatch started to creak under his feet so eager was the thing to snap his neck. As he thought of what could happen to Lucille afterward he couldn't have formed any words. So he stood silent, hoping that his death would be uncharitably swift. Easily could he imagine the hangman sat in the early hours of morning tying the noose incorrectly so that he suffered as much as possible. Such that it would for the rest of her life cause Lucille to feel the same ineffective pain, horror and outrage as her victims.

Ever it would cause her to think that if only they had lived then he would not have died so horribly...for her sake. This was the only way he had thought of in which Lucille would live on. After all, the institution would not allow her to take her own life when he was gone. Not because they worried over her, no, they cared only because it would disgrace her victims that she could choose when she died.    

Before the lever could be thrown, a familiar voice shouted, "Out of my way, out of my way, you bloody curs !" 

Thomas whispered, "James ?" as he opened his eyes to the screams of the now scattering crowd. James Nicholls crouched in his saddle, his blond hair shining in the dim sunlight, rode toward him on a grey horse. Smoothly, James leaped off, rolled onto the platform, unsheathed a dagger, sprang to his feet and hacked through the rope.

James had to steady him as he briefly stumbled, but he paid it no mind and instead threw himself fully at the horse. To scrabble with bound hands for purchase on its mane trying desperately to get on before the platform collapsed as it seemed about to do. His cousin helped throw his leg over then climbed on behind him, turned the horse and urged it down Executioner's Hill's slope.

Near swooning, he slumped against his first boarding school friend. At least, unlike the Sharpes, the Nicholls were a trustworthy, non-murderous and non-incestuous family. The last time he had seen James for a goodly amount of time was when he and Lucille were last in London a year ago. Suddenly, pistol fire whizzed by, causing him to half-twist in the saddle to see two men pursuing them. One was on a black horse, the other was on an older paint. In response, James reached into a saddlebag to pull something out. Seconds later, he found out that the something was actually rocks as one slammed into the black horse rider's forehead. After miles of trying to catch up the paint's rider gave up and turned back.

Finally, when they had disappeared into the farthest hills, he realized they were heading toward the alleged location of Greene's Copse. Dark shapes eventually appeared in the distance, they drew closer and the shapes revealed themselves as a cluster of ramshackle huts, houses and market stands. Greene's Copse, sometimes when Father had built up his drunken rage he had screamed that a village full of criminals lay nearly on their doorstep. Well, to be pedantic, since it was in fact true, fellow criminals in hiding. It was a damning thought, but still he wondered: Was Lucille hiding there somewhere ? Before he and Lucille had surrendered themselves to Harding Poole's Chief of Police he had promised Edith that should he and Lucille meet again he would resist her or else do his best to do so.

They wound their way into the village's heart to stop before one of the sturdier looking, two-storey houses. James dismounted from the panting horse to pat its flank, murmuring, "Easy now, you did good, easy."

After his own less than graceful dismount he was cut free from both bonds and hangman's knot. Immediately, he started coughing, gasping and gulping down air as the pressure disappeared then he winced as the blood started flowing to his fingers again. 

"Cousin, come and see who just arrived !"

Something shattered inside the house and barely it seemed he had blinked before Lucille was throwing herself into his arms. More than a week had passed since he'd held either her or Edith. Whether it was consciously or not she used it against him, pressing a soft kiss to the rope burn on his jugular vein as a hand slid roughly over his thigh. Good God was it ever hard to repress the moan that wanted to escape, even harder not to ignore James and take her like she wanted. It would feel good to just fuck away his vexations though. No, he was not going to give her what she wanted, he was not ! The effort it took him to move that one step backward was phenomenal because after the two weeks he'd had in the prison he wanted her to take control again. Life was so much easier when she was telling him what to do.

Lucille gasped, "Oh, Thomas !" as she saw that the bright red burns that fully encircled his lower esophagus.

Disappointingly, he noticed that her sympathies were still for him alone and turned to James. It was his turn to embrace someone, "Thank you, James."

In reproving tones and with a look at Lucille their cousin replied, "I couldn't stand the thought of you dying for her actions. If they were going to hang anyone for Lucille's actions it should have been her, not you."

That was what Edith had said too. What was she doing now ? Was she somewhere back in America crying uncontrollably as McMichael tried to comfort her ? He supposed that thought would have to comfort him as if he sought her out and was arrested whilst with her it would incriminate her. If that happened the police would turn from thinking of Edith as his unwitting victim to thinking of her as an accomplice in a grand conspiracy. No matter how he wanted to see her, he couldn't put her through that, not after everything else.

He moved back to stand beside Lucille as James continued, "I'll check on you again this evening. You know that if you ever want to leave without having half of England on your arses you two are going to have to change your names, to leave your titles and everything behind."

"I may have liked the respect that it brought me, but I hated my title and that bloody house. I, at least, will be glad to leave this all behind."

There was no answer from his sister and James left them to it. Lucille took him into the house and stripped him of his suit coat, waist coat and shirt before sitting him down on a threadbare grey wing backed chair. As he went to scratch the back of his neck she gently took and lay his wrist back down on the chair's arm.

Earnestly, she said, "Thomas, sit still and let me make you better. I'll get out one of the salves I smuggled from home."

Which one she used he would never be able to tell because he slipped into his first fitful sleep since his arrest. As his eyes fluttered open a soft, "Thomas, wake up." drifted into his ear.

Those dark eyes were still concerned when Lucille asked, "Are you hungry ? I started making a wild dove and mushroom soup for you this morning, I wanted you to have something nice when you came back. It turned into a simple dove soup when I shattered the bowl of mushrooms though."

"Lucille even if the only food we had was an utterly rotten Black Pudding I would still eat most of it by myself. One might say that I've been starving for a good meal lately." Before today he had never appreciated how good it felt to be hungry. Considering how close to death he'd been it would be incredibly idiotic not to savour every bite of rich broth and smoky dove meat. Even though he appreciated the sentiment, Lucille's insistence on spoon-feeding him was annoying because his wrists didn't hurt anymore.

After he had finished eating she crossed the stained brown carpet into the kitchen to put his bowl in the sink. Something had mystified him about Lucille's being here, "How did James get you out of the institution ?"

"Do you forget that one day James will become Lord Nicholls ?" Lucille's shoulders had started to shake and she braced herself against the sink, "I-if you had died they...they were not going to allow me your funeral. Instead James persuaded them that I should, at least, be allowed a final good-bye. You could have died because of me." A horrified whisper, "Oh Thomas, Papa was right, I really am wicked."

The memory of when he was eight and they had snuck into the library to look at those stupid pictures crossed his mind. They hadn't expected Father to return from his hunting trip early, but Father had stalked in with some of the men and they had rushed to hide behind one of the curtains. Father had started flicking the riding crop against his boot as he shouted at the stammering servants about an accident in the mine. It had terrified him, he had panicked and accidentally knocked the curtain rod down. Being smaller than Lucille he had hurried to hide under the love seat.

Father had dragged Lucille out and demanded to know if she had brought him with, more specifically, if he had seen the pictures. Father's mentality was that as his only son he was perfect and Lucille would corrupt him. Father had hated Lucille's being the first-born instead of him. Lucille had answered, "No." of course. Father demanded she say, "I am wicked." before the whip cracked and she screamed over and over, so many times, too many times. Meanwhile, cowering beneath the couch he had closed his eyes and pretended it was not happening.

"No !" Seconds later he was holding her, stroking her hair. "No, no, Lucille, you are not or you do not have to be. Papa is long dead, do not let him tell you who you are still." Gently, he turned her around, stared into her eyes as he brushed away her tears. "Lucille, forget him, forget home, bury the Sharpe name, come with me...be free with me, please !"

She pressed her head against his chest, "I...I don't know. Yourself and the house are the only things I know."

"We can buy a new house, one that doesn't need a thousand repairs to live in comfortably, one that has never had a terrible history. Please, love, we can make a new home just for us."

The hesitant response, "How ? We have no money...you can't mean ?" Unconsciously, she raised her head to look at the golden band set with the enormous ruby on her finger its hundred of facets gleaming from a strayed beam of sunlight. 

"Yes, and mine as well." His silver ring etched with the family motto would fetch a few crowns less than the Sharpe engagement ring, but it would still sell for a pretty price. They would need all the money they could get if they wanted to both move somewhere else and get a new house.

Like the first time Lucille had to give the ring away she was possessive. "No, it belongs to me ! You gave it to me before they separated us. I-it was the only thing I had of you in that horrid place. How can I let it go, how ?"

Frustration filled him, "You don't need the ring when you have me, Lucille. Did that ring carve you toys, did that ring hold you when you cried ? No, it did not because I am that one who loves you, not that bloody fucking ring ! Why can you not appreciate me for who I am ?"

"I'm sorry, Thomas, I am so sorry for everything, I just don't want you to leave me." Her newest tears dripped onto his chest, "I keep thinking that James rescuing me was a dream, that I'll wake up in the institution, that somewhere far, far away from me your neck will snap and I will never see you again."

"I am alive, I am ! Let me show you, for once...let me love you." He lifted her chin, pulled her into a deep kiss and took her upstairs to the bedroom. For the first time he was an active participant and she let herself be pleasured. How lovely she looked beneath him, her hair fanned out about her shoulders, her skin flushed as she clung to him lost for the first time in passion's throes.

Barely had pleasure's veil lifted itself from his senses when the door opened downstairs and James shouted, "Thomas, Lucille ?"  

Quickly, he threw the blanket over Lucille and they both hissed, "Fuck !" It was too late to play pretend, so he shouted back, "Up here, James."

The look of shock on James's face when he entered and answered was comical. "What the fuck ? I know you almost died Thomas, but you truly could not think of a better sex partner than Lucille ?"

Rather amused with himself he joked, "Well, James, who else was I supposed to have sex with ? She was right here." Unsurprisingly, Lucille was the only one who laughed.

James scowled, "This is not funny ! Please, please, for God's sake, tell me you used a sheep skin."

"You know, I completely forgot about that."

Their cousin threw his hands up in frustration. "What if she gets pregnant, Thomas ? Yeah, that would a nice story for the kids - oh, don't worry about liking little Clementine, after all, your mother is my sister !"

Maybe, just maybe, it would be whole and...and they could be a family. His hand met Lucille's and he looked wistfully at her stomach, hoping. Softly, seriously, "I would rather have a child by Lucille than near any other woman." Except for Edith, of course. "You said it yourself, James, we can make new lives. We can take different names, get married and no one would be the wiser."

Lucille cuddled up against him, "You know I always said I wanted to marry my little brother and the institution always said I was mad. Thank you for the opportunity, James."

"I...uh...your, erm, welcome ? I think. Actually, what I think is I am going to leave before you two suddenly start trying to fuck me." The blond man backed out of the room and shut the door.

Lucille waited for James's footsteps to fade before she wondered, "If...if we should be lucky this time will you carve some new toys ?"

An idea struck him then, "Oh, Lucille, you are a genius, a sheer genius ! We never needed a clay mine, we needed toys ! If we sell the rings for enough money, we can get a house and I can set up shop somewhere."

Lucille kissed him and stroked his cheek, "No, Thomas, you are. Can we move to Germany ? I've always wanted to see if Mother's home country was more beautiful than her."

"Luce, any country is more beautiful than Mother was, much less Germany."

"I think I just thought up our new names if you agree. What do you think of: Thomas Harper and Luce Frost ?"

"I should think that it's bloody brilliant, Mrs. Harper."

"Ah, but I'm not your wife yet."

Thomas grinned at her, "Not yet, but you will be. By God, you will be." They would leave for Germany in the morning.


	2. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Magician is the little toy that Thomas shows Edith in his workshop - the one with the red star around its eye and does the little trick with the golden buckets and beads. The name itself is taken from the novelization which says that it was one of the first toys that Thomas ever made for Lucille.

1902, Germany

Thomas paced outside his and Lucille's bedroom, his plain golden wedding band glittering in the gas lamp's light. The emerald wallpaper glowed in the early morning light that entered through a lead paned window beside him. Another of Lucille's screams echoed through the door then...then a long sharp wail followed. Relief filled him as his knees gave out - this one was alive, it was alive, and it had quite the pair of lungs. Impatiently, he forced himself to wait until the midwife left before he burst through the oak door. 

It didn't matter that Lucille was still covered in small patches of blood and sweat, she was alive and triumphant. "Come see our little girl, Thomas. Papa said that Grandfather's eyes were mostly green, no ?"

"Grandfather's were yes, like yours they went from green to brown in certain lights. They were the most memorable thing about his portrait too." Their little green-eyed girl, his little girl, his beautiful first-born lay swaddled in Lucille's arms gurgling joyously. He strode to the bloody, white-sheeted bed then bent to kiss Lucille's sweat-covered cheek. "Well, Mrs. Luce Harper, whatever are we going to name our daughter ?"

Lucille held their daughter close, pressing her own lips to the babe's forehead. "I was thinking of Charlotte, Charlotte Enola Harper." 

Over the approximate year since James had saved his life Lucille had come to terms with Enola's not being able to save their first child. Once she even admitted to him that she regretted killing Enola because the baby had liked her, hence Charlotte's middle name. 

"A lovely name for a lovely girl. You did wonderful, darling." Happily, he trailed a finger over Charlotte's cheek, she proceeded to try to bite him. No matter that she had yet to have teeth he still gently scolded, "Charlotte, it is improper to bite."

"She is just hungry, Thomas." Lucille put Charlotte to her right breast then smiled when she started to feed. "I notice that you didn't lose consciousness this time, Mr. Harper."

A flush crept onto his face, "I didn't expect that much blood the first time, I did now. What I really cannot understand is why she made me leave the last few minutes. I mean, does she really think that I never saw your cunt when we had sex ? It does not look that different when it has a bloody baby coming out of it."    

His sister shrugged and cooed at Charlotte. "I do not know it is just something that they do. Shall I clean up before we take a nice photograph to send to James ?"

Shortly, he helped Lucille clean off the last bits of gore and dress in an amethyst gown then dressed their daughter in a little white gown. When he returned to the hallway for the camera he saw his shop assistant, Herr Fleischmann, waiting. "Is something wrong, Fleischmann ?"

The short man reminded him rather of dear old Finlay what with his fluffy white hair and mustache. Fleischmann had welcomed them to the tiny village of Nachtland on the Rhine river most warmly, helped them find their house and a store that was but steps away. Fleischmann had even been his first customer buying one of his automatons of the Magician for his grandson Adolphus. His automatons and carved toys and Lucille's stuffed animals had become quite popular of late. Just last week in fact they'd had the Baron Van Goethe's wife, Lady Amelia, stop by to purchase a stuffed black moth on her way down to Berlin.

Fleischmann shook his head, "No, no, I just wanted to congratulate yourself and the Mrs.'s on the baby."

Briefly, he clasped the man's shoulder, "Thank you, Herr Fleischmann, we appreciate it as we do everything you have to help us. Say, would you mind taking a photograph of myself, Lucille and little Charlotte for posterity's sake ?"     

"I would be delighted to, Herr Harper." Fleischmann picked up the camera and followed him into the room. "Guten morgen, Frau Harper, kind Harper."

Thomas moved to stand beside the bed as Lucille replied, "Good morning to you too, Herr Fleischmann. It is a wondrous morning is it not, poppet ?"

He couldn't help laughing as Charlotte burbled in response then fell silent in awe when she put a tiny hand on his arm. Luckily for him it was when he had regained his composure that the camera flashed. Fleischmann took a few more pictures before he returned to the shop. With the photographs taken he gently picked up Charlotte and took her into the adjoining nursery to place her in the crib. There would be no restricted rooms here, no drunken, whoring, abusive berks or blasted in flagrante delicto pictures hidden in the pages of books. No, Charlotte would have as good and healthy a childhood as he and Lucille could provide.

When he had made her comfortable he picked out a little stuffed fox from the shelf of stuffed toys and put it beside her. Immediately, she latched onto it, pulling it against her chest as she drifted into sleep.

In a soft tone he promised her, "I will never let anyone hurt you, Charlotte, not even if it kills me." Unconsciously, he reached up to rub at the rope scars on his neck. For Lucille, for Charlotte, he would hang a thousand times if it would keep them safe because for the first time he had a family. A real loving family.   


	3. Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief point of view switch to James before we go back to Thomas.

James scowled at his paperwork and moodily popped a piece of dark German chocolate into his mouth. Blast Thomas for sending him the addictive little sweets. Well, he supposed if they ever needed his help again he would simply for the fact that over the last three years he'd eaten nearly his whole weight in the stuff. He looked up from his desk at the sound of footsteps to see his former nursemaid Estella approaching.

The old English-Italian woman smiled, saying, "Letters 'n packages arrived for His Lordship." as she put them on his desk.

He looked down and smiled to see the return address to the first letter: Nachtland, Deutschland - 1905. It had taken him two years to remember that his cousins no longer had a personal seal for him to break. Yet, he still instinctively felt for the missing seal before he unfolded the letter to see Thomas's strong, but elegant script. Really, it was a good thing he had kept up on his German or else he couldn't have read the thing. 

Dear James,

We hope that this letter finds you in good health and wish you the happiest of belated birthdays. Charlotte wants to know if you might come visit us again soon. Lain atop Lucille and I's package for your perusal is one of her latest drawings. I have sent along another prototype for your consideration and Lucille the newest of her stuffed animals. No, there is not yet another package of chocolate this time. Sometimes I think that were I just to send you a package of butter it would still work nearly as well, old thing.

Pip-pip and much love,

Thomas, Lucille and Charlotte Harper 

James refolded the letter, set it aside and opened the bulkiest package. Charlotte's drawing rested atop everything else. Like all children's drawings it was not truly the energy put into the content but the attempt at content itself that counted. The littlest Harper's drawing was of herself, Thomas, Lucille and her toy, Herr Fox beside the Rhine. Lucille was a blue stick figure with dots of greenish-brown for eyes, while Thomas's stick figure was black with blue and Herr Fox was an orange and white blob. It made him laugh that the surrounding flowers were, according to Charlotte, nearly half so tall as Thomas. Written on the bottom in German in slightly messy handwriting was, "Uncle James, are you coming back soon ?"

When he rested the drawing atop the letter his gaze went to the shelf that was covered with Thomas's prototypes. So, he took out the newest one, it was a winged and horned dragon the scales were metal painted onyx and crimson. Since he knew how Thomas was, he slid his hand down the dragon's crests to press an indention in the middle of its back. A few seconds later, he watched in amazement as the dragon rolled its neck, its mouth opening and closing using the clockwork's amplified ticking for a snarl, while its wings flapped and its tail lashed.

Amusedly, James shook his head and muttered, "You, Thomas, are just one bloody brilliant mind in the shape of a man. You could take over the whole world and no one would notice because they were too in awe of your toys."

Lucille's newest was of a snowy owl, the crushed felt and silk were soft enough to feel like feathers under the hand. The owl's eyes were made of what looked like handcrafted amber set with onyx pupils. Simply because the pupils were so small it felt like the owl was going to fly at and attack him. As he set it on the desk he noticed that either a bag of sand or rice was sewn inside so that the owl would stay upright on its wooden talons. Carefully, he put it beside Thomas's dragon and took up a piece of parchment to write his replies.

Dear Thomas, Lucille and Charlotte,  

I am quite well, thank you, though missing the three of you rather terribly too. Unfortunately, I am not able to return to Germany for sometime as I have what seems a cart full of matters to deal with. How I wish that I could give up my title and join you for a few weeks. Ah, anyways, I have some good news for you Thomas. Yesterday, the Lady Cumbria paid me a visit and saw your prototypes sitting on my shelf. She immediately asked, "Are those some of Harper's ? Why, however did you get all those ?"

I think your popularity and quality has started spreading from Germany back to jolly old England itself. Lucille's owl is great if a bit unsettling, perhaps she might make the pupils a bit bigger, and your new dragon is absolutely amazing. You and Lucille could teach others your skills then send them to open a store in London or some such, I'd help you set up and everything. It could be a great start of expansion for Harper and Family Toys if you ask me. You do not have to accept the offer, of course, but I thought that I would put it out there anyway.  

Love and cheerio,

James Nicholls

He folded the letter, wrote the address and sealed it then called, "Estella, Estella ? There's something I want you to drop off at the depot for me, quick like if you please." 

Estella re-entered the room, took the letter and left him alone with his paperwork. Back to sore eyes and cramped fingers he supposed. Despite telling himself that he wasn't going to take another chocolate, he did anyway. At least, if it really were butter he would have long stopped by now.


	4. Whitener

Thomas found himself again looking out the parlour window of James's estate - Whitener's Keep. Still paranoid after nearly four years in Germany, he gazed about for signs of pursuit in the slowly darkening lavender gardens. Thankfully, there was nothing in sight. Even before he turned around he knew exactly when James entered.

Mostly it was because Charlotte shouted, "Uncle James, Uncle James !" and ran across the room.

"Ssh, Charlotte, it is not polite to shout." James chuckled picking her up anyways, "Isn't this a pleasant surprise ? Just how is my favourite niece ?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle James and I am good."

He glanced at the white-tiled floor and crouched to pick up Herr Fox from where Charlotte had dropped it. The tile reminded him of Allerdale Hall, except it was clean. Never had there been a drop of blood spilled in violence or poison upon the floor of the keep. There were no infestations of moths or flies covering the wallpaper nor sounds like ghastly breathing to keep one up at night.

The grey-clad lord put Charlotte down then asked, "I cannot visit you, therefore you come to me ?"

Lucille got up from the dark-oak and white-cushioned love seat to briefly embrace James. "Thomas and I figured that it would be far more appropriate to accept a business proposal in person. Right, darling ?" 

When he had returned Herr Fox to Charlotte, he replied, "Of course. We were not interrupting anything were we, James ?" Briefly, his mind went back to the McMichael's party when he had persuaded Edith to accompany him. It was impossible not to remember the, to him, utterly hilarious look of irritation that had crossed Mrs. McMichael's face at seeing the blond woman. Oh how he wished that he could have danced with Lucille afterward. Even now he still thought it would've made the night truly perfect. 

James shook his head, "No, you were not, I just finished up my paperwork for tonight. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You three can freshen up, we can eat and then we can go to the ballroom for a bit."

One of the things he had liked about moving to Nachtland was that most of the villagers hadn't known how to perform a proper waltz. Thus had he and Lucille found a way to keep up their rather considerable skill.

Charlotte wondered, "Where're we going ?"

Even knowing the consequences, with a nearly inaudible chuckle, he leaned down and swept Charlotte against his chest. The two most important women in his life also had some of the loudest screams. A month ago, he and Lucille had taken Charlotte camping three hours away from the village in the forest. In the middle of the night he had awakened to a blood-curdling scream and rushed outside utterly convinced that Charlotte was getting ripped to pieces by a bear. Instead he had gone outside to see two big, blood-covered wolves running away from Lucille and Charlotte with their newly docked tails between their legs.

Of course, his daughter now used those impressive lungs to shout, "Ah ! Eee, Daddy, stop it !" The last as he tickled her with Herr Fox.   

Lucille had washed Charlotte's hair earlier, it still smelled of soap as he rested his chin atop her head. After a moment's consideration he replied, "Hmm, I don't think so little one. We are going to our rooms to clean up. Do you want your mother to help you when we get to your room ?"

She turned around to snuggle against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck. "No, I'm a big girl."  

Both he and Lucille knew it was lack of any parental affection, much less proper parental affection, that had turned them to each other. "That you are, dear Charlotte, that you are."

Lucille's arm brushed his as they followed James out of the parlour, turned left and moved down a side hallway into the guest wing. His and Lucille's room was first on the right while Charlotte's was on the left. Quite reluctantly, he let her down and she ran into her room. As they entered their own room the cheery golden wallpaper stopped him in his tracks as he remembered Edith's dress. How bright it'd been among the drab ruins of the hall. 

"You still miss her."

He took a deep breath as he went to his trunk, opened it and rummaged for his travel kit. "I...of course I do, Lucille. If we had gone with your plan of using Eunice McMichael I would not have fallen in love with her and you have killed her. Had I not fallen in love with Edith I would not have matured enough to try taking charge and unintentionally earn your respect. Had we gone with Eunice we never would have gotten out of Allerdale Hall alive. Instead of being in the institution and prison respectively we have died when the house finally sank into the clay."

"I think that I would have killed Eunice McMichael for being an utterly vapid twit. Even for an American she was idiotic. Of course we never saw the Royal Family we were some of the lowest ranking aristocracy one could be. Our family hadn't seen true nobility since Grandfather met Her Majesty in 1867. I mean, Pamela had a knack for telling jokes, Margaret and I could talk about how Scottish food and dance compared to English and Enola was a good soul who, unintentionally, taught me how to take care of Charlotte. At least with Edith I could have a conversation about entomology no matter I hated her at the time. Though I do have to thank her for making me realize just how much I was mistreating you."

The combined powder room and bathroom was the same cheery colour, but the counter was dark granite and the sinks of porcelain. As he laid out his straight razor, brush and started making a lather, Lucille was good enough to turn on the faucet and untie his cravat for him.

Lucille moved to the other sink to reapply her rouge, murmuring, "Edith does not know how great her home life was. If only Papa had ever been half the man Mr. Cushing was. I would have taken only one of our parents caring over them both trying to kill us in various fashions."

After he applied the lather and started drawing the razor down his right cheek he replied, "Perhaps that only would have made things worse. If Papa had cared he might not whipped you but then Mama might have drowned me for being disrespectful as she always threatened."  

When he had finished shaving, he helped Lucile put her hair in a bun and they collected Charlotte to go to the dining hall. Given the long trip they had taken to get here James allowed them to eat first before confirming their deal. It'd been years since he and Lucille had a proper three-course meal. First course was a choice of canapes, quiche and salads. The main was fresh trout with lemon and parsley, spotted dick or roasted quail with mashed potatoes and desert was peach cobbler, biscuits or Black Pudding. Himself he had a few quiche, the roasted quail and Black Pudding.

Lucille first seeing the pudding joked, "Look, Charlotte it's not rotten, we might actually get a piece for once."

With a good-natured eye roll, he grinned at his sister/wife then raised his glass of white wine. "In honour of that reminder may I propose a toast to our dear James Nicholls, Lord of Whitener's Keep, for without whom half of us at this table would not now be."

"Hear, hear !"

James was still flushed when he proposed his own toast, "Alright, alright. Now, let us toast to the success of Harper and Family Toys new secondary location in our own beloved London, England."

If anything another even heartier, "Hear, hear !" echoed through the white plastered hall. Charlotte finished her peach cobbler and they migrated into the ballroom. There might not have been any musicians, but himself and Lucille didn't need the music so well did they know the rhythm. Like so many other times, they waltzed with a candle clasped between them. Ten years ago, Lucille had said to him that her time in the institution was mostly spent learning how to waltz as to temper her violent impulses. Of all his first time waltzing partners only Lucille and Edith had never had the flame go out, they really were his perfect partners.

At seeing his own and her mother's grace Charlotte tugged on James's hand. "Can we too ?"

The blond man raised an eyebrow at him briefly. "Waltz, yes, but with a candle ? No, that we most definitely cannot do. That is far too dangerous for one so young as you, Charlotte."

He and Lucille watched proud as could be as despite the great differences in height their daughter and cousin were really quite graceful. Charlotte only managed one circuit around the entirety of the ballroom before she was kaputt and they put her to bed. That done, they went to the library to read aloud for a bit. Around ten o'clock they went to bed themselves, sleep came later. 


	5. Magicians

1909 

Thomas was working in the shop's back room when Charlotte stopped beside his elbow. "Father, you said to come tell you if any Americans came in. When I peered around the counter corner there was a woman talking to a man and boy about how your Magicians looked awfully familiar."

His heartbeat slammed painfully into his throat as he put down the chisel from working on just such a thing. Bloody Hell, could it be ? Could it truly be Edith and McMichael ? If it was them, who was the boy's father ? Was it him, McMichael or someone else's child ?

Charlotte's green-brown eyes were alight with concern. "Father ? Are you alright, Father ? You look paler than normal." Thomas patted his seven-year old's head, "Thank you, darling, I will be fine. Did you want to come with me to talk to them ?"

She nodded, "Yes, Father."

Slowly, he got up, took off his apron, pushed in his chair and wound his way through the maze of tables into the shop itself. Over the shelf-tops he saw that Edith's hair was twisted into a single braid, McMichael stood beside her.

From a distance, he watched himself approach, watched the little blond-haired boy turn around. Immediately, he noticed that the boy had his eyes.

His son in an undertone, "Mother, who is that ? Why's he got those scars on his neck ?"

Edith turned then gasped, "Thomas ? Thomas, is that you ?"

Dizzying though it was, the world returned to its proper perspective. It was hard to swallow the lump in his throat, "Edith, I am glad to see you well and yourself, McMichael. Who are you, child ?"

The boy proudly exclaimed, "My name is Tommy Sharpe !"

Edith really had thought him dead, so much that she had still followed the old tradition. Unconscious tears pricked his eyes before he blinked them away and called, "Herr Fleischmann, I am leaving the shop to see to my guests. Come now, Charlotte, we are going to see your mother for a bit."

While he led them out of the shop he heard Edith murmur softly, "Mother who ?"

The shop and his and Lucille's house were a mere twenty feet from the banks of the Rhine. Sunlight gleamed off the water as it whooshed gently past the sandy banks and flowers. Charlotte and young Thomas chattered inanely as he moved the foot over to his front door. There was no chain-bound skull knocker on this door, it was simply brass. He opened the door and let them in first so that he could close the door behind himself. "Lucille, we have guests."

Lucille entered the foyer with a cordial, "Hello, Edith, McMichael. Charlotte, why do you not take your new friend up to your room ?"

"Yes, Mother, come on, Tommy."

His children went up the stairs as he, Lucille, Edith and McMichael moved into the oak floored living room. He and Lucille sat down on the dark-grey love seat, Edith and McMichael took the green and white scale patterned wing backed chairs.

Edith was in shock at first. "Thomas, I-I thought you were dead." Angrier, "For nearly eight years, eight years, I thought you were dead ! Why didn't you have the decency to tell me you were still alive ?"

For a moment, he closed his eyes. "You don't know how much I wanted to tell you. My cousin, the Lord Nicholls, saved me when I was but seconds from death. I am a fugitive in Northern England, Edith. Luce and I had to sneak into London to sell our rings because for days afterward there were men looking to finish the job. We could not go back to America because of how Lucille killed your father. Had we been able to go I would not have told you because I was afraid that the police would think you had played a willing part in it. It was too complicated, too expensive and I wanted to start over. Lucille and I, we took new names, Luce and I got married, we had Charlotte."

McMichael scratched his chin, "Let me see if I understand this clearly: Charlotte is your daughter ? Why would Lucille/Luce want to marry you ? More over, after that, why would she want to consummate her marriage to her, oh, I don't know...little brother ! You two are certifiably insane, well, one for sure."

"If you want to insult my sister, McMichael, then get out of my house, I'll not stand for it." 

The blond woman put a hand on McMichael's arm, sunlight glittered off her ring. "Alan do you not remember that Thomas saved your life ? Be respectful of that if nothing else."

Anguish filled Lucille's voice, "Where did you find it, where !"

With a brush of her forearm, he twined their hands so that the matching bands rested beside each other. "You do not need it, you have me. These two little rings should mean far more to you than that ancient piece of horse scheiwz ever did."

Possessively, Edith turned her hand palm upward. "In 1902, I made myself return to England. I went to one of the shops that Thomas had taken me to on our chaste honeymoon. When I saw the ring I couldn't believe it, I thought my husband dead and you dead, Luce, and wanted something that was once his gift to me. I bought it thinking it the last thing I would ever have of Thomas then...my, our, little Tommy was born and I was overjoyed. Eunice got married to a German Baron's son last year, in her letters to Alan she wrote about this wondrous little toy shop her husband once visited in a village called: Night land. Alan, Tommy and I, we went to Berlin and I saw what I was sure was the little toy from in your...," She looked away and he flushed as she continued, "From in your workshop. I asked where the child had gotten it and he said in Nachtland. That is when I for sure thought you were dead because no one else knew about your toys besides Lucille and myself. I thought one of the police had taken it as a trophy, started having someone replicate it and sell it for himself. I was...you don't know how angry I was, until we got into the shop that is, and I saw it was your exact handiwork."

Thomas smiled slightly, "Your moral outrage on my behalf is appreciated. I am going to make some tea. Did anyone else want some ?"

McMichael got up, "Could I talk to you outside for a moment, S-Harper ?"

Irritation repressed he nodded and followed the doctor out onto the doorstep. Unsurprisingly, he was slammed into the door and McMichael's hand closed tightly around his throat. 

An outraged hiss, "How the Hell can you ask Edith that ? You broke her heart, Lucille killed her father, you married her right after then let her tea be poisoned and now you dare to ask if she wants any ? Save my life or not you're a sick fuck, Sharpe."

In response, he twisted McMichael's wrist and pushed him away. A cough built in the back of his throat, "While Charlotte lives there will not be a damned drop or crystal of that foul thing in my house ! You helped raise my son, you know how inquisitive they are. If we did indeed have some poison as you theorize it would be far too easy for Charlotte to kill herself by ingesting it. I lost my first child to something that I could not control, Dr. McMichael, I will not loose my second to something man-made if I can but help it. In these intervening years, Luce and I have changed for the better, yet you seem only to have changed for the worst. Unless, it should be because of your jealousy ? I think it is. You wish that young Tommy was yours. You had it all planned out until I got my foot caught in the door."

The blond man laughed, "And then you refused to leave despite having it smashed into a bloody pulp."

"Sometimes I can be insistent. Now, are we quite done posturing ?"

"Quite. She won't admit it, but she cried for nearly three weeks straight."

When the American went back inside he finally let the cough out and rubbed his throat. Not a minute later as he walked into the kitchen, he heard Edith saying, "I should be mad about this, but I'm not. I'm actually really happy for you, Luce. I mean, you look...so much happier than you did back in England and you have the most gorgeous little girl that I've ever seen."

How could Charlotte not be when Lucille was her mother ? The kettle was still on the table from yesterday evening, so he re-filled it and checked the stove. It was still lit, he put the kettle on, retrieved the imported tin of Earl Grey and returned to the living room.

"Mommy, Mommy, I think Herr Fox is dead !" Charlotte rushed down the stairs to hold Herr Fox out to Lucille. There was a rip in Herr Fox's stomach's, the cotton poking out like bloodless entrails. 

Lucille smoothed Charlotte's hair and took Herr Fox gently. "He isn't dead, darling, he is still alive. Now, be good and fetch my needle and thread so I can make him better." While Charlotte took off again, Lucille turned the fox over, "Hmm, this is the first time she's ever damaged Herr Fox. I say, Thomas, we are doing a far better job of this than our own did."

Thomas didn't notice Edith and McMichael's appalled looks when he said, "Humph, had you or I tried bringing Slyly to Mother for darning she would have thrown him in our faces and told us to do it ourselves."

Slyly was Lucille and his's stuffed fox, of course, well, before Slyly had...died. Still Mother's reaction was better far than Father's. As punishment for his breaking of a dish, Lucille claimed she had kicked him and caused him to drop it, Father had taken Slyly and chopped the fox's head off.

Like the big, wild-haired brute he was, Father had rubbed the decapitated toy and stuffing in Lucille's face. "Are you happy, girl ?! Are you happy that you killed your brother's favourite toy ? Well, are you ?"

Lucille, brave Lucille with tears in her eyes had replied, "He wasn't alive to begin with, Papa."

Father had boxed her ears for being smart then sent them back to the nursery. They had never found Slyly's remnants, leaving them to suppose that Father had thrown him into one the mining pits.

When Charlotte returned it was with not only needle and thread but also Tommy in her wake. The two children sat down at Lucille's feet as she started carefully resewing Herr Fox's stomach. When Lucille had handed Herr Fox back to Charlotte their daughter exclaimed, "Father, I want to be a doctor !"

"It will take many years of schooling and you will have to work incredibly hard to get the others to respect you. They'll not want to because you are a woman, you cannot let their idiotic opines stop you."

Charlotte kissed Herr Fox's nose and grinned, "Mother says that you used to be like a wet blanket. She says when I'm older if they don't respect me I can make them my puppies !"

He glanced sternly at Lucille. "Yes, well, that was a very long time ago. You must remember Charlotte that to a Harper wit and charm are far more valuable than strength, as such they must always be your first courses of action."

The kettle whistled and he got up walking past Edith as she murmured, "They certainly worked on me."

While he made the tea, Charlotte was wondering, "Are you a sewing doctor, Dr. McMichael ? Father said you had to get stitched up when...," 

McMichael interrupted her, "No, Charlotte, I am an eye doctor. Did Tommy tell that he wishes to be a doctor too ? Perhaps when you and he are older I might introduce you to some of my colleagues."

By some invisible cue both children stated, "We could name our practice: Sharper !"

As he'd been bringing the tea to put it on the table he had to stop walking or risk dropping it from laughing so hard. Perhaps it would be best to explain to Charlotte that she and Tommy were half-siblings before something untoward happened.  


	6. Night

"I have a Father ?"

"I have a brother ?"

Thomas couldn't help an amused head shake as Charlotte and Tommy linked hands and spun around laughing. There was a bump followed by a rattling of wooden talons and rice before he rushed to secure the shelf of Lucille's snowy owls. "Watch those shelves, it took your mother two months to make all those, Charlotte !"

Her black-hair whirling around her shoulders as she stopped, Charlotte gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Mother, Father, we'll be more careful."

With a rueful shake of his head, he let go of the shelf and looked down at Tommy. "Since you came all this way...son, why do you not pick something out ?"

The blond boy latched onto him with all the smothering force of a flock of moths on the sunken hall's wallpaper. "I've never had a real Father before."

Not knowing if he should do something different than what he did with Charlotte he just patted the curly head. Edith and even Lucille smiled as he said, "Well, you do now. Now, go on, I can pay for it later."

Tommy immediately headed for one of the newest toys. More specifically, one of his and Lucille's combined projects - a furred cougar with clockwork insides. Pretty soon, they would have to hire more people to keep up with the demand. A few days ago, they'd received word from James that the London store was doing so well that they would need to expand to a third location. He, Lucille, Charlotte, Edith, Tommy and McMichael left the shop so that Herr Fleischmann could lock up and go home. 

The night sky blazed with stars as he walked to lay on the banks of the Rhine. Nightingales swooped overhead, Charlotte and Tommy started running around chasing after the birds. Lucille and Edith sat beside him talking about before.

"I am sorry that I burned your first manuscript, Edith. I was jealous that you had managed to intrigue him."

Edith leaned over to hug Lucille, "That's okay, Luce. Yes, it was my first draft and the one that Thomas read, but I wasn't fully happy with that one anyway. It was because of you and Thomas that I thought up the name for my book."

"Really ? What did you call it ?"

"I, ah-ha, I called it: Crimson Peak."

"I have heard far worse titles than the name of an ancient, sunken Estate. It sounds suitably terrifying and ambiguous enough for your...not ghost story."

Their talking made him wonder if Edith had actually gotten published as she wished. It would've been a nice trade-off for having dealt with himself and Lucille for so long. A few minutes later, Charlotte asked to go inside so Lucille took her and Tommy wandered down the bank with McMichael. Therefore, it left Edith alone sitting beside him in silence. Unconsciously, he glanced at her and noticed that just like the first time they'd met she was wearing a golden blouse and skirt. Dear God, she looked beautiful, the starlight gleaming off her hair, a strand falling into those cornflower blue eyes as she turned her head. There was an almost physical ache in his chest as he reached out to brush the hair away. Every emotion that he wanted to say but couldn't find the words for perfectly expressed as she pressed his hand against her cheek.

Softly, Thomas asked, "What happened to Cavendish ?"

"He died."

"I'm sorry."

Edith smiled faintly, "Don't be, he has a better life now."

"What if this...better life...what if it confuses him ? What if he has doubts ?"

Their lips were so close to touching as she breathed, "He'll choose what's right for him."

Self-loathing filled him and he rolled away, it was his own fault that he couldn't have her. He had chosen to parse his words and thus he had chosen Lucille over Edith. If he'd not then he would have died and either Lucille would have killed herself or Edith would have killed her. He had chosen life over death and gotten mainly good things from it. If he had chosen Edith over Lucille then Charlotte would not exist. How could he want to wish his daughter away for the love of a woman he still barely knew ? Yet a small and undeniably guilty part of him did.

He got up, turned and started toward his house, murmuring, "Good night, Edith. I hope you sleep well." An annoying part of him wished that she would dream tonight about a different past, one that would've ended in their living together with Tommy.

An equally regretful, "Good night, Thomas."

When he had trudged into the house and angrily scrubbed at his face, he hissed, "I can't believe I almost did that. Ich commen Teufel ! Gott hilfe mich, Himmel hilfe mich."

"I would rather hear you say, "Almost." than, "Did.", Thomas. It is like when we were little and I wanted to kiss you even though I knew Mama would've hit me. I knew it was a bad idea, yet I wanted to do it anyway."

Slowly, he looked up at Lucille with a pained smile, "I know, but everything is so different now."

Lucille walked up to take his hand, "Just tell me that you can be friends with her and I will trust you. I will always trust you."

"Yes, I can be friends with her. You both may be mothers to my children, she may be a few years younger than you, but, unlike with Edith, I married you because I always loved you. You are just as beautiful as her, if not more so, and I will stand by that until the day I die."

They went through the house, turning off the gas lamps and blowing out the candles. He went to Charlotte's room before he went to his and Lucille's, Charlotte was still awake. "What are you doing up ? I thought you wanted to go to bed."

She got up, her white nightdress shimmering as she held out her arms, he hugged her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Good night, little darling."

"Good night, Daddy."

It was almost funny when he turned to leave and she asked, "What about Herr Fox ? Doesn't he get a good night kiss too ?"

So, chuckling, he kissed Herr Fox, bid him good night too then went to sleep. 


	7. War

1913

Dear Thomas, Lucille and Charlotte,

Doubtless you will know by now that England has declared war with Germany. I have done my part as Lord Nicholls and enlisted as a captain in the cavalry. I am glad that one of us at least will be able to escape enlistment as they cannot touch you in Germany. Charlotte and Lucille need you to be there for them should, God forbid, something happen to me. By the time this reaches you I will have already deployed to some place. You know, before my father died he asked me why it was that I saved you Thomas. I told him what had become my view on the matter - that you deserved a chance to make up for your mistakes as did Lucille. I have made quite a few mistakes in my life, but saving Lucille and yourself, seeing my favourite niece come from that, it will never be a mistake. No matter what happens, if I return or not, know that you all are incredibly dear to me.

I love you, 

James Nicholls, Lord of Whitener's Keep

Thomas put the letter down with a grimace, Lucille's hand came to rest on his shoulder and he covered it with his own. Dear God, James had to come back alive. No, he'd not known they were at war, the news hadn't reached their part of the Rhine yet. That did explain however why the London sales had dropped slightly.

Charlotte walked into the library with her new friend Helena Goldstein. "What does that say, Father ? Is it from Uncle James ?"

He turned to look at Charlotte, she was wearing a new dark-blue skirt and white blouse that she'd gotten from Berlin last week. Since they had far more expendable money than himself and Lucille at her age and no willfully oppressive influences she was more fashion conscious. Rather surprisingly, she said that she wanted to be a doctor like Tommy. One day, perhaps she would be a doctor then after all that effort...get sent into the horrors of a war. Just seeing a dead body was terrifying, but to be surrounded by it all the time depending on what type she managed to become ? He didn't know if she could handle it. He certainly hadn't been able to watch Lucille putting Pamela, Margaret and Enola's body's into the clay vats.  

Reluctantly, Thomas replied, "Your uncle James has joined the war effort."

One of his daughter's hands rose to her mouth, "What ? He can't do that ! What if...what if he dies ?" 

Helena put a hand on Charlotte's arm, "I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. The war will probably be over in two months and he'll be perfectly fine."

When Charlotte and the red-haired girl left the living room he half-turned to Lucille. "What are we going to do ?"

Lucille's eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean ?"

"The war, we're English living in Germany. Herr Fleischmann, Adolphus and Frau Bergman all have become our friends over the past....eleven, almost twelve, years. By now, Herr Fleischmann is practically family and James is our cousin, we've known him near all our lives. I-I don't know how I would feel were he to die at German hands."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, "We will hope that it will be as Helena says."

Except, it wasn't two months, letters came for three months then stopped. Of course, they tried to justify the absence of further mail by saying that perhaps there was a post strike in England and the war was delaying any further deliveries. Four months after James's deployment letter arrived, he and Lucille were getting the table ready to have dinner with Edith, McMichael and Tommy when the door slammed shut. The sound of loud, body-wracking sobs filled the foyer causing everyone to rush into the entrance. Charlotte was leaned against the door, shaking her head with her eyes squeezed shut, her face ruddy and her arms folded across her chest as she clutched a crumpled letter.

Charlotte opened her eyes, rushing to hug him before dissolving into more tears with a, "Daddy !"

His throat tightened, his vision narrowed and blurred and the world went off-balance. It was only years of experience that kept the facade of control in place. There was nothing he could say, so he simply rubbed her shoulders. The boy who'd befriended him in boarding school, who'd helped him deal with the confusion and anxiety of being away from Lucille, who'd defended him from bullies and saved his life from the hangman...was dead.

Distantly, he heard Edith saying, "Tommy put the soup on the table, Alan get some, ah, brandy out won't you ?"

Lucille whispered, "Charlotte you should eat something."

Like he had almost said the wrong thing eleven years ago, Charlotte now did. "I'm not hungry, Mama."

A snarled, "Do not call me that, Charlotte, do not ever call me that again !" before Lucille turned and stormed upstairs.

Instinctively, he guided his daughter back into the kitchen and dining room. Edith, Tommy and McMichael were sat somberly at the table. Even for wild dove and mushroom soup it was hard for him to eat more than a few spoonfuls at a time, it didn't taste like anything. Near silence reigned as he remembered the first time that James had met Charlotte.

Lucille had their daughter bundled up, again she sat on the love seat but unlike the other times she held Charlotte. Their girl's tiny cheeks were still red from the cold when James walked in. The blond man had gasped, "Who is that ?" and rushed up to take her from Lucille. "Whose a pretty baby ? Hmm, who's a pretty little Charlotte ? You are, and Uncle James is going to spoil you, yes, he is." Grey-blue eyes looked up at them, "She really is beautiful. You may have start killing people again when she grows up, Lucille, or they're going to be climbing the walls to marry her."

Lucille had answered, "Hopefully not, now that I've managed to stop and we have Charlotte to look after, I would rather not start again."

Smash ! He snapped out of the memory to see Tommy looking embarrassed. As he tilted his head he could see in his features that Tommy had a faint resemblance to James as well. Part of it was how curly Tommy's hair was as he ran a hand through it then got the broom to sweep up the broken bowl. Edith grabbed a tea towel to mop up the spilled soup. Again silence as he took a sip of brandy, it was curious, really. Of family deaths James's was the first that he'd ever had a reason to care about and yet for some reason he was...calm. For Mother and Father's funerals that'd been expected, but for James ? He'd expected himself to be something like when Edith had seen Mr. Cushing's body, a crying mess.

Sometime later, Edith, Tommy and McMichael left with quiet condolences. Charlotte blurted, "The last time we were there, why did Uncle James call Mother your sister ? Why was he serious ?"

Nervously, he finished off his brandy. Why did this have to come up now ? Why couldn't she have waited until tomorrow ? Better to just explain it now than put it off and make it even worse. Thomas reached out to take Charlotte's hand, "Try to stay calm until I finish explaining. Do you remember when Herr Fleischmann remarked once that your mother and I look very similar to each other ? That your mother used to be very possessive of me ?"

Charlotte bit her lip, he saw the pieces falling into place as she jerked her hand out from under his. The disbelief as she shook her head exclaiming, "No, that's not possible !"

"Your grandfather, Sir Michael, and grandmother, Lady Beatrice, Sharpe were terrible people. They didn't love each other and they most certainly didn't love your mother and myself. For the longest time, Luce and James were the only people who cared about me. James saved your mother and I from death. I know you don't want to hear it, but you asked and what I say now is the truth: your mother, Luce Harper, was born my older sister, Lady Lucille Sharpe."

It was far worse when Charlotte said flatly, "You're monsters, all of you, e-even Uncle James." and walked out of house than if she'd yelled and slammed the door.

He rushed after her, "Charlotte, Charlotte, come back !" to trip on the doorstep. Desperate, he shouted again, "Charlotte !"

Shoulder length black-hair swayed, she didn't stop, she didn't even look back for a second. James was dead, Charlotte was leaving, only Lucille was still here. Only Lucille was left of his family, he'd ruined them. The tears finally fell and he buried his face in his knees.


	8. Grave

Thomas was laying in some inn's cot in Whitener's Vale, clutching Herr Fox to his chest. Pain and despair attempted to drown him, today was James's burial and a week since Charlotte had run away from him. Two days since he and Lucille had last received a telegram from Herr Fleischmann about the fruitless search. What if...what if Charlotte had gotten lost in the forest and eaten by a wolf ? All Herr Fleischmann would find was bones then. Bones picked clean, just like Margaret, Pamela and Enola had turned to in the vats. Would Charlotte have ended up better off if he had only admitted that he loved Edith ? They would've been dead and Charlotte never would have had to run away in disgust. She probably hated them and wished that she had never been born. Honestly, he would not have blamed her if those were her exact thoughts.

A slight rustle of cloth as Lucille walked out of the bathroom in an onyx delphos gown and veiled hat. Her attempts at coercion had fallen from instantaneous effectiveness, "Come on, Thomas, get up. Do you want to disappoint James by missing his burial when we've come all this way and he would have gone to yours ? Brother, please. Do this so that you can look for Charlotte with a lighter heart."

Dully, Thomas replied, "You were much better at this before I persuaded you to turn yourself in."

A flash of the old Lucille, "I did not save you from Mama and Papa and James did not save you from death so that I could do everything for you...again, man up for God's sake ! The man I married was not a coward. You, Thomas Sharpe, are a disgrace to James's memory and a coward of the most disgusting caliber."

He just blinked as she left before he put Herr Fox on the table and got up. Lucille was right, Thomas Sharpe was a coward, but he was not Thomas Sharpe anymore, he was Thomas Harper. Quickly, he freshened up, put on his suit then went after his sister/wife. After James's funeral he and Lucille would return home and they would find Charlotte or die trying. Everything had changed so much since he and Lucille had last been in Whitener's Vale, much less at Whitener's Keep, there were so many more automobiles around now. If he had a choice he would either walk anywhere he needed to go or rent a horse from somewhere. 

As he approached it Whitener's Keep seemed far too bright now with the sunlight reflecting off the white plaster facade, the lavender gardens that James had played with Charlotte in too cheery. The gates of the keep stood closed and Lucille before them challenged a young servant. "You will let me in, boy, or I will make sure that Estella has you fired for denying me entrance to my own cousin's funeral !"

"Them Sharpes is eithe'r dead or fled bi naiow, they ain't comin' here, so git lost."

With how others had remarked that he, Lucille and James could've been triplets he knew the boy hadn't been around for long. Well, as he and James had also been so similar in voice he would just have to scare the boy into the believing truth then wouldn't he ? Purposefully, he strode toward the gates and Lucille, answering, "They are indeed coming here and you will open the gates for them."

The boy tripped over his feet with a thud then whimpered, "W-who are ye ?"

"I am Sir Thomas Sharpe, that is the Lady Lucille, now, will you open it ?" 

Visibly trembling the boy got up and let them in. A few minutes later, they entered the great hall to see James's dark oak coffin set in the hall's center upon a table. Estella who stood beside the coffin started crying when she saw them, the old woman could barely meet his eyes as she hugged him. Her voice fairly cracked as she thanked them for coming. When he asked who would be carrying James she replied that he was to take the front right side as James had always trusted him. That alone nearly brought tears to his eyes before they went to the closed casket where they brimmed fully with anger. It never should have turned to war, why the fuck had it anyway ? He had never heard a good reason for it from either side. James never should have gone to fight, he should have ! James had deserved a quiet death at home of old age not to be...not to be shot to bloody bits in a field. 

Since all the bearers had now arrived, he along with Estella's husband, Frederick, and four servants he didn't know took up the casket. Frederick had the front left side with the others being arrayed behind them. The path to the Nicholls Family Cemetery was beige granite, lined with short green grass and stately willows until the black iron gates. As to the gates themselves, they were engraved with cursive N's, fleur-de-lis and roses. On the way to James's grave they passed beneath elaborate white marble crosses, the compassionate gazes of granite angels and of men, women and children, a few black granite headstones there were as well. James's own headstone was dove-gray with ivory engraving, it lay beneath the shade of an ancient willow. Carefully, they lowered James in as the strands rustled in a breeze carrying with it a feeling of acceptance, peace and hope.

While he and Lucille threw in their roses and handfuls of dirt he knew that James would help them find Charlotte.          


	9. Wolf

Thomas scrubbed a hand over his face, took a deep breath and looked over at Lucille to find that she too was looking at him. Her face was tight with worry, the corners of her eyes had started wrinkling from stress. She reached out, he took her hand and gently squeezed it. He tried to smile reassuringly, the sun was just rising on the second day of their search. He, Lucille had already been combing the forest for two hours, while Herr Fleischmann, and young Adolphus had done the same for the plains.  

Adolphus seemed enamoured with Charlotte, well much as an eleven year-old boy with a normal family life could be. In a way it relieved him that Charlotte and Adolphus both lived in Nachtland so that if he were to arrange a marriage he knew she wouldn't fall into a scam like himself and Lucille had done. Unless he let her pick her own husband when the time came, it would come, it had to come. They had to find Charlotte or Tommy would be devastated as he loved playing with her and her teaching him advanced Deutsch as he taught her the American vernacular in turn. 

Slowly, he released her hand and they returned to searching the underbrush for signs of human activity. As they walked the sunlight penetrated down to the forest floor, the only things they disturbed were birds or small game. Sometimes a wolf would howl from afar raising his anxiety again as he pictured fangs sinking into her throat. It always caused Lucille to unsheathe the long knife at her side as they fanned out for forty minutes at a time. They never found any sign of her, but plenty of wolf tracks. Eventually, they rejoined, stopping for a moment before Lucille disappeared to relieve herself.

They had kept the bedrolls, food, salves and bandages for when they found Charlotte. In the distance the mountains loomed like forbidding teeth of stone as he slung his pack down next to Lucille's. Tomorrow they would start into the mountains by themselves as this was the last day that Herr Fleischmann and Adolphus could dedicate to helping find her. 

Forty feet ahead, Lucille suddenly shouted, "Thomas, Thomas, come here ! It's the butterfly hairpin, she was here, she was here !" 

Heart beating in his throat, he rushed to follow her voice, tripping over roots in his haste. His last fall had him spitting out dirt, leaves and a few small bugs as he raised himself to hands and knees. Lucille, her hair matted with leaves, crouched beside a small ground scrape. In her dirt-crusted palm lay the onyx and aquamarine hairpin Edith had given Charlotte for her ninth birthday. 

Some of the roots that loomed above them had obviously been shattered, they lay scattered on the ground around Lucille. Tears gathered in those green-brown eyes, she whispered, "Charlotte would not have left this, she never would have willingly. She was...she would have to have been scared out of her mind if something tried to kill her." They fell as Lucille caressed the hairpin, sobbing, "Something tried to hurt her and we weren't there, Thomas !"   

Thomas walked to crouch beside her, embracing her and soothing, "There is no blood anywhere, she is still alive. Take heart that if she had not dropped it we would not know. We will find her, I swear we will." until she had calmed.

Carefully, he picked leaves from her hair and they returned to their little resting spot. As he took out and slice a few pieces of bread and cheese to eat, Lucille opened her pack to put the hairpin on top so that it wouldn't be crushed. After they'd eaten, they shouldered their packs then returned to Charlotte's camp to find her trail circled around the tree then led toward the foothills. Not long had passed when he thought he saw a wisp of smoke filtering between the branches of a pine tree. Unconsciously, he looked to Lucille who nodded before he started running. 

Just like a week ago, he shouted, "Charlotte ? Charlotte !"

All he remembered was pine needles scratching his face and hands as he burst from the treeline. His gaze immediately went to the smoldering fire pit and the blood-stained grass. Terror filled him as he looked down to see that what'd once been a person's body was now nothing more than gobbets of flesh, pieces of bloody clothing and bones courtesy of a bear or wolf. When he walked a bit closer he was relieved to see that the hair was short and brown while the closest scrap of cloth was black. Short hair and pants, nothing at all like long black hair, a white blouse, and an ankle length sapphire skirt.

Distantly he heard something yelp and Charlotte yelled back, "Father, Mother !"

When he glanced up thirty feet away an emaciated brindled wolf was snapping at her. The weeks of worry and fear filled him along with rage at the wolf. No matter that he'd never killed anything he made a damn good effort when he jumped on the wolf's back. Rough guard hairs worsened the cuts on his hands as he punched the back of its head repeatedly. "Goddamned blighter fucking bastard."

It twisted snapping at his face before it threw itself on its back. He resisted the instinct that told him to let go, clinging on as it rolled back over to kick its flank.

Lucille growled, "Let go of it !"

So he did, while he thudded onto his side Lucille darted in to score first the wolf's side then its front right leg and jaw. She led it away from himself and Charlotte, quick as lightning she struck the blade sinking deep into its brain and cutting off the right ear. Lucille sneered at it, wrenched the long knife free then sliced its throat open. She backed away while the wolf collapsed a near river of blood gushing across the grass.

Charlotte's arms wrapped around his shoulders, she pressed their bloody foreheads together. "I love you, I don't care, I love you."

They cleaned their wounds and stumbled back toward the forest. Now they just had to find Herr Fleischmann and Adolphus and go home. They were alive, wounded, yes, but they were alive. His family was as near to whole again, that was all that mattered. 


End file.
